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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27778573">Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Bedevere/pseuds/Sir_Bedevere'>Sir_Bedevere</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Ghosts (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>And processing trauma, But it also isn't exactly angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, I'm just obsessed with trauma at the moment, Pre-Canon, This isn't happy, so my bad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:02:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,365</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27778573</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Bedevere/pseuds/Sir_Bedevere</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Yearning for the days when his hands were his own to command was nothing new to Sir Humphrey Higham, but it occurred to him that he could scarce recall a time since his death when he had longed for them more than this very moment. Specifically, he wished that he could cover his ears.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Humphrey watches a witch execution and really wishes that he wasn't.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>86</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Yearning for the days when his hands were his own to command was nothing new to Sir Humphrey Higham, but it occurred to him that he could scarce recall a time since his death when he had longed for them more than this very moment. Specifically, he wished that he could cover his ears. </p><p>Robin’s fingers were in his hair, wound around the strands so tightly that Humphrey felt as though he could almost remember the feel of pain, or at least sense its ghost. It would be no good speaking though; Robin was rather unhappy, hopping from one foot to the other, and Humphrey was just grateful at that moment that Robin hadn’t dropped him to the ground and run away. He’d hardly blame him if he did. </p><p>The woman was sobbing so loudly and pitifully that she can’t have heard a word that was said as her charges were once more read to her. Not that the charges were new; she was already tied to the pyre that would end her life. Humphrey recalled the stories from his childhood, the bloody queen who tied people to the stake and burned them alive. He’d always hoped that it had been a fairy tale, made up to scare him in his nursey, but not it was about to happen right in front of him. And for what? Witchcraft was nonsense, as any man of science knew. </p><p>“Robin,” Humphrey said, closing his eyes. “We should leave. Before –”</p><p>“Stay,” Robin growled, then leapt out of the way as the torches were lit. He ran around the pyre and stood a safe distance away as the woman began to beg.</p><p>“Please, sirs, my lord. I dids no witchcraft, I –”</p><p>“Silence, Mistress Mary,” a man roared, holding up his hand. “It is too late for your poison.”</p><p>From the corner of his eye, Humphrey saw that the plague ghosts – who usually kept to themselves in the cellars – had ventured up to see what the godawful noise was about. Several of the women hid their faces and when Humphrey looked back, the pyre had been lit. </p><p>After that, he hardly saw a thing, for Robin was leaping around, grunting, his limited speech deserting him. Humphrey did hear the haunting wail that was so distressing Robin, and knew he’d likely never forget it. It rose above the jeering of the crowd, an unanswered plea to the heavens. Humphrey closed his eyes and tried to recall the old prayers, the ones he had abandoned when he woke up after his execution. He’d pray once more for this poor creature, if only it would ease her pain. </p><p>Then the pitch of Robin’s feverish grunting changed, and Humphrey found himself hurled to the ground. </p><p>“Robin!” he yelled, but now he was turned away from the fire, and could not see a thing. The wailing had stopped, the jeering increased. </p><p>“Robin!” he yelled again, frantic, and then a pair of gentle hands picked him up. He looked up into the face of Nigel, one of the plague ghosts, who had ventured closer. </p><p>“Thank you, sir,” Humphrey said, as Nigel turned him around and said, “Look!”</p><p>Robin was as close to the fire as he dared to go, beckoning. Humphrey saw at once what had happened; the woman, overcome by the smoke before she could burn, had died. But she had stayed. She’d stayed, and her ghost was standing in the flames. She cringed away from Robin and who could blame her? He was rather frightening on first sight. </p><p>Humphrey was in no doubt that a severed head would also be an unwelcome sight, but at least he could speak to her. </p><p>“Take me closer, please,” he said. Nigel obliged and approached slowly. </p><p>“Mistress,” Humphrey called. “Please do not be afraid.”</p><p>She took one look at him and screamed, turning and running into the darkness. At least she was away from the fire and not watching herself burn. </p><p>Robin made to run after her, but Nigel reached out and grabbed his arm.</p><p>“Let her alone,” he said softly. “She will come around.”</p><p>Robin’s eyes were wide, white at the edged, but when he shook off Nigel’s hand, he did at least run in a different direction, around the back of the house.<br/>
Humphrey sighed. </p><p>“Would you mind terribly helping me to find my body?” he asked.</p><p>Nigel cleared his throat. </p><p>“Alright.”</p><p>Most of his kin had already retreated to their cellar and only John remained, waiting for Nigel. </p><p>“Sir Humphrey wants help finding his body,” Nigel said, and although Humphrey was sure that John was rolling his eyes, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Anything was better than lying out alone on the grass all night, watching the embers of the woman’s death flickering. Her horrible end had rather brought about some bad memories. </p><p>“Come on then,” John said. “Geoff and Walter can help or we’ll be at it all night.”</p><p>By the time his reluctant helpers had found his body, slumped over and resting, all was quiet in the house and without. Nigel placed him gently into his own hands and then Humphrey was alone. </p><p>Tomorrow he would try and cooperate with his body to go and coax out their new arrival. </p><p>He slept fitfully, waking at every little creak of a floorboard, sure that he could hear Robin prowling about, but alone every time he opened his eyes. Then, as the light of the morning, began to stream into the corridor, he woke again to find that he was no longer by himself. </p><p>The woman was crouched at the end of the corridor, close enough for Humphrey to see the terror on her face. She was staring at him, her hands held before her as though she were praying. </p><p>“Good morning,” he said. </p><p>The woman paused. </p><p>“Good morrow,” she croaked, her voice ruined from screaming. “This is hell.”</p><p>Humphrey chuckled. He’d had exactly this conversation with Robin once upon a time. Well, conversation was a strong word. </p><p>“This is not hell, mistress,” he said, wishing that he could move his head, but his body slumbered on, and the idiot would probably only drop him anyway. The woman crawled a little closer to him, and sat. She looked exhausted and timid, but she had ventured inside of her own accord, so Humphrey thought there must be a streak of iron in there somewhere. </p><p>“Tis not heaven,” she said. “Or else you would have your head atop your shoulders. And there be a devil running loose in the gardens. I sees him.”</p><p>“That’s Robin,” Humphrey said. “He is fearsome to look at, but a friend to me. And he is not a devil.”</p><p>The woman nodded, but she did not seem convinced, and why should she? Surely a devil in hell would tell her exactly something like that. </p><p>“I am the ghost of Sir Humphrey Higham, late lord of this manor,” he said. “Robin is a ghost, also, and now so are you.”</p><p>“A ghost?”</p><p>“Doomed to go to neither heaven nor hell. We wander the halls and gardens of this house and watch the living.”</p><p>The woman’s lip began to quiver, and Humphrey turned his eyes away as she wept. </p><p>“What is your name, mistress?”</p><p>“Mary. Mary Bell.”</p><p>“I am pleased to meet you, Mary Bell,” Humphrey said, wishing he could reach out and comfort her somehow. He knew the shock of this loneliness and desolation all too well. Then there was a scuffle at the end of the corridor and Robin appeared. Mary gasped and shuffled closer to Humphrey, but Robin for once showed some remarkable insight and approached very slowly. </p><p>“Me Robin,” he said, when he was almost upon them. “You Mary. Me hear.”</p><p>“Did I fall into a fever, sir?” Mary asked, turning to Humphrey. “Is this naught but bad dreams?”</p><p>“It is real,” Humphrey said. “Welcome to eternity, Mistress Mary.”</p><p>Robin sank to his knees and the three of them sat quietly as the sun came up on that cold November morning. Eventually Robin reached out, much more careful than he had ever been with Humphrey. His hand rested on Mary’s arm, and she did not shake him off.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Humphrey is completely fascinating to me; he really grew on me during series two because he's just so reasonable and emotionally mature, especially compared to most of the others. I want 3493749 fics with him. </p><p>And yes, I did use Nigel from the plague ghosts because there is something too funny to me imagining Larry, Larry and Larry interacting. Also Nigel seems to be quite sweet too so I think it is just amusing that Larry is playing all three of the characters who have a grain of emotional intelligence between them.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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